As the tension built, all reason and inhibitions fled. She grabbed his wrist, pressing his fingers harder against her as she thrust her hips forward.
A tiny corner of her was mortified. The rest was enraptured.
“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.”
This.This.She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t hear. Stars shone in her vision as the whole world dropped away.
Thiswas why foolish girls risked their reputation, why married women sent satisfied, cryptic glances. Why Helen had left a king for a mere prince.
It built and built and built with each stroke.
And then she tipped over the edge of the precipice she hadn’t seen.
She bit the back of her hand to keep from crying out as her body took on a life of its own, straining and twisting in pleasure, lifting from the bed before collapsing in a sated, languid heap.
He cupped her face in his hands, coarse and rough with calluses. Hands that had never known softening crèmes but had built things, tamed things. Might be taming her.
“I…” There weren’t words to describe it.
No wonder this was kept from unmarried girls. Society would fall. There wouldn’t be enough dark corners or locked rooms at any gathering.
She looked at him. The heat in his eyes hadn’t banked. If anything, her—incident—had increased his desire. His cock was still hard against her thigh, and a muscle along his jaw ticced.
Where she was spent, he was coiled tight. She didn’t have to be a genius engineer to know there was still more to come.
She stroked the rough stubble on his cheek, and he leaned into her hand, placing a hot kiss on her palm.
“What next?” she whispered.
He growled, a guttural, animal sound that formed no words yet spoke reams, and pressed into her with a desperate kiss.
In that ephemeral state between asleep and awake, there was no sight, just the light of the dawn inside him, even though a corner of his rational brain knew it was still dark outside.
This was a different kind of dawn, beyond the breaking of a new day. The smooth, soft pink of Amelia’s skin, the slow rhythmicwhooshof her breath, and the enveloping smell of jasmine all heralded a different kind of beginning.
He curled his arm around her, pulling her close to him, content just to listen to her breathe. She shivered, goose bumps prickling across her arms—disappearing as he ran a hand over them in big, slow circles.
Why had luck favored him in this way? He had failed one woman so completely. How could the universe have sent another in his direction? Particularly one as perfect as her.
He nestled his cheek into her hair, his thumb drawing gentle patterns on her side.
Once the light flowed through the uncovered window, her sleep became lighter, more restless. She shifted, each move pressing her closer to him, brushing against his cock and flooding his mind with carnal thoughts.
She stiffened beneath his touch when she woke and then relaxed, sinking into his embrace. “Good morning,” she said as she rolled to face him. Her chest and neck had flushed a delightful, self-conscious shade of red.
He reached down and grabbed the bedsheet, pulling it over them. “Good morning.” He kissed her, soft, quick—like a habit they’d have for the rest of their lives. “Last night was—”
“Educational?” She didn’t meet his eyes, instead focused on the hair on his chest, running her fingers through it in small, whirling patterns.
“Perfect.”
She gave a satisfied littlehmph. “So what next?”
Benedict stretched out, his feet hanging over the edge of the bed. “We ring for breakfast and spend the rest of the day in bed.”
Amelia propped herself up on her elbow. “Tell me about your mother.”
“You want to talk about my mother? Now?” When he imagined a perfect morning lying in bed with his perfect wife, his mother was decidedly not part of that picture.
